Just Don't Tell Trudy
by Desnai
Summary: F!Courier and Ringo unwind at the Prospector Saloon after a showdown with the Powder Gangers. Courtesy of a Fallout kink meme prompt. Rated M for sexual content.


_Courtesy of Fallout kink meme prompt. I may have gotten a little carried away with this one. F!Courier and Ringo unwind at the Prospector Saloon after a showdown with the Powder Gangers. Rated M for sexual content._

_As always, reviews/critiques are welcome!_

_Standard disclaimer: Characters, locations, etc. belong to Fallout and respective owners._

* * *

Cara staggered into the Prospector Saloon, never so sure she needed a drink. She knew the likelihood of seeing Trudy behind the bar was pretty low. The sun had already set on Goodsprings. It had been two days since Doc Mitchell woke her to her new life, and she had already managed to kill a handful of geckos and a group of Powder Gangers.

_Charmed life indeed_, she snorted to herself. The action immediately caused a surge of dizziness. Maybe she had been a little too close to one of those asshole's powder charges. It was hard to remember the entire fight, and a damn miracle that she didn't end up with her brains splattered all over. Maybe Goodsprings had seen it's fair share of her blood after all.

She wasn't too surprised to see that she wasn't alone in her quest for a stiff drink. Ringo sat at the bar with a bottle of whiskey in hand, fingering a deck of caravan cards.

"Hey there! I hope you're sticking around for a bit. I wasn't looking forward to a night of drinking alone." Ringo jumped at the sound of Cara's voice, and he gave her a sheepish glance when he realized it wasn't Cobb back to get his revenge.

"Y-yeah. I don't think I can sleep for a while yet. Too wired up."

Cara grabbed a bottle of whiskey for herself and dropped a few caps behind the bar for Trudy to find in the morning. She tossed back a quarter of the bottle before plopping down on a stool next to Ringo.

"I hear you. Nothing settles the nerves more than a stiff drink... and a cigarette. I don't suppose you have one on you?" She had refused to pay the exorbitant price that snake Chet had demanded for a pack.

Without a word, Ringo handed her a cigarette. As Cara leaned in to let him light it for her, it struck her again just how handsome Ringo looked. His blue eyes stood out in stark contrast to his sun-darkened skin and brown hair. He definitely stood out in a podunk town like Goodsprings. The only other people she had seen that sparked her interest hadn't spoken more than a few words to her. Guess talking to the formerly dead was bad luck.

She took a long drag on the cigarette and chased it with another quarter of the bottle of whiskey. She took a second to close her eyes and relish the nicotine and alcohol hitting her body. She could already feel her muscles relaxing from their post-battle tension. Cara felt another wave of dizziness, and put an arm down on the bar counter for support.

In a second, Ringo was standing at her side, placing a hand on her shoulder. "You okay?" His gaze was intent on her face.

Cara flashed him a sheepish smile. "I'm fine. It's been a long day."

She could smell him now. Body sweat, tobacco, and whiskey - not unpleasant. In fact, after a day like hers had been, it was down right intoxicating. She nearly laughed at the absurdity of relishing the smell of another persons unwashed body. It struck her as a very intimate thing, as though she were using his scent to abolish the feelings of loneliness and confusion she had felt since setting foot outside Doc Mitchell's house into the harsh heat of the Mojave.

Cara couldn't remember the last time she had been intimate with anyone. Of all the things that she had forgotten since catching her grave, this irked her more than anything. Doc said he had patched her up best he could, and that some things would take time to return. She believed – had to believe – that the blank spots in her memory were temporary. Screw the man in the checkered suit for now. She had a sudden desire to feel very much alive.

How long she had sat there, just breathing Ringo in, she had no idea. He hadn't moved from her side. She looked up at him, and snaked a hand up around the nape of his neck, pulling his mouth towards hers. His body went rigid with shock initially, no doubt confused by the crazy broad in front of him. After the brief resistance, he was soon kissing her back with gusto.

Apparently his need was just as great, judging by his enthusiasm. Within moments, one hand was caressing her left breast, occasionally pinching her stiffening nipple between thumb and index finger. Despite his sweet and innocent appearance, he was obviously no stranger to a woman's body.

With his free hand, he slowly spread her thighs while he rotated her around on the bar stool. Cara was now fully facing him, with a thigh on either side of his hips. Ringo wrapped the arm around her waist, closing the distance between them. Cara gasped at the firm pressure she felt between her legs from the bulge in his pants.

Ringo unzipped the top of the Vault 21 jumpsuit the doc had given her, freeing her breasts. Cara wasn't the most well-endowed woman, but Ringo didn't appear to mind. He ran his lips down her neck, pausing once to nip gently. He continued down, and took one of her nipples in his mouth.

She could no longer tell if her dizzy spells were from her previous dance with explosives, or waves of euphoria from Ringo's deliberate manipulations. The ache between her legs was near unbearable. Taking a deep breath, she unbuckled his belt and tugged his pants down. Ringo let out a little moan as she eased him from his underwear.

Cara breathed out an involuntary "Ooh" of astonishment. Ringo, here, was gifted with some exceptional genes. Unable to resist, she pulled Ringo closer and whispered into his ear. "No wonder Sunny was so eager to help you out." She punctuated her statement with a little nibble to his earlobe.

No denial was to be heard. Despite the flush in his cheeks, Ringo's movements were practiced and sure. Clothes quickly discarded, his mouth pressed against hers, sealing in her moan as he slid two fingers into the wet heat between her legs. His movements were quick, and left her gasping for more when he finally withdrew, apparently satisfied that she was sufficiently prepared.

It was almost painless. Almost. Ringo had quickly thrust himself deep within her. He held her there, allowing her to acclimatize to the sweet pain she felt burning in her loins. Cara danced the cusp of pain and pleasure, while she tried to convince herself that her muscles were contracting in the latter and not the former.

When Ringo began moving, all thoughts flew from Cara's head. Any pain she felt was quickly swamped under the tide of pleasure his movements were making. Each minute movement seemed exaggerated as her flesh stretched to accommodate him.

Ringo was whispering something in her ear. Cara struggled to center her thoughts enough to decipher his words. Meaning became clear a second later when he lifted her small frame from the bar stool. The four steps to the nearest booth seemed an eternity. Her muscles contracting around his shaft, she kept him encapsulated within her during the transition.

Rather than the worn, tattered cushions of the booth's benches as she was expecting, Ringo lowered her onto the cold surface of the table. The table groaned alarmingly at the new addition, but seemed sturdy enough.

They remained joined together, unmoving, as Ringo ravished Cara's mouth and throat before straightening slowly. He gently guided her legs up against his chest, terminating on either side of his head. Ringo wrapped his arms around her thighs and used the new found leverage to push himself deeper inside, kissing the arch of her foot as he did so.

Cara's head swam. The new angle enhanced the feeling of fullness, almost agonizingly so. Each slow, deep thrust burned with a mixture of pain and pleasure. Cara found herself clutching the edges of the table. The walls Prospector Saloon echoed the thuds of the table striking the wall back at her as the force and speed of Ringo's movements increased.

Clarity eluded her has her senses were bombarded. With an intensity that surprised even her, she felt her orgasm begin to crest. Her back arched against the table, pushing her pelvis harder against Ringo's body. As pleasure racked her body, she was distantly aware that Ringo had given in to release as well. His final solid thrusts as he spilled into her fueled the bonfire that was already consuming her. The fire of her pleasure washed over her in waves that caused her entire body to spasm.

As she slowly became reacquainted with reality, she realized she was reclined in Ringo's arms. The coarse fabric of the booth seats felt rough against her flushed and highly sensitive skin. By contrast, Ringo's chest against her back felt amazingly smooth.

She craned her neck to look over shoulder. Ringo wore a small smile as he bent forward to place a kiss on her forehead. "You had me worried for a minute or two. This is the first time I've had anyone faint on me." His lips whispered this against her skin, and ended with another kiss.

Cara flushed with embarrassment. "A first for me as well." She cleared her throat. "And before you get any ideas, I've got a reputation here in Goodsprings, so please don't go around bragging about how you fucked my brains out." She had to work to keep her face straight and her voice firm.

Ringo's deep chuckle rumbled against her as he wrapped his arms tighter around her. "Don't worry. This will be our little secret. Besides, I'm headed out of here in a few days anyway."

"A few days?" Cara tried to keep the disappointment from her voice. "I was hoping I might convince you to travel with me, at least for a while."

Ringo's blue eyes held hers in a deep gaze, before he reached up to brush hair from her forehead. "You seem to have a habit of falling into trouble." He murmured and he lightly fingered the still raw scar tissue from her recent up close and personal orientation with the receiving end of a couple of bullets to the skull. He shook his head slowly. "I've got to report back to headquarters. I'm still on contract, you know."

Cara nodded against his chest. She knew it was a fool's hope. The guy had just scraped out of a life threatening situation. You don't just jump out of the cook pot into the fire. Accompanying a broad hellbent on revenge wasn't exactly the safest course of action.

"Besides," Ringo's voice rumbled in her ear "someone's got to stick around to fix the table."

"Wha?" Cara glanced down and with surmounting horror, she realized that their antics had indeed caused the demise of the ancient piece of furniture. Immediately, her mind began to churn. How was she going to explain this to Trudy? She had a nice discount going on food and drinks here, and she was planning on taking advantage of that to stock up before leaving.

"Relax Cara. I'll take care of it. I'll tell Trudy I got a little worked up after drinking to excess. She'll understand after the day we all had."

Cara nodded. "Thanks Ringo. For everything."

Ringo laughed and returned his arms around her. "This just means you need to look me up at the Crimson Caravan Headquarters if you head up near Vegas. I can collect... payment from you there."

Cara had to laugh. "You drive a hard bargain." She planted a light kiss on his lips. "Deal."


End file.
